When in Rome
by E.J. Cady
Summary: Tara and Pam sitting in the tree...not really...but it's a fun little story.


Multi chapter one shot.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nothing about Monday struck Pam as unusual. It had to be one of the longest days of the week rivaled by Friday which she could have sworn was created to tease and torture her as she sat in her cubicle glaring at time as if a stern scolding would bend time to her will. But, Monday was a different beast—it waited like a predator inching toward her and like the shock of being clawed by a pouncing animal she jerked awake to her alarm left to wonder where her weekend went? That had been six hours ago with three more to endure as she busied herself with paperwork. Blinking away from her screen she pinched the bridge of her nose pausing when the faint sound of music caught her attention. It wasn't the hypnotic elevator music she heard when people entered and exited the elevator. No, this was upbeat giving her an inclination to move her hips to the catchy beat.

Her other coworkers heard it too. They rose slowly from their seats looking around the same way she was to locate the source of the music. Down the walkway and around the corner in Eric's office through the glass windows with open blinds stood a woman with a boom box and trench coat at her feet. In leather heels, thong, and bra Pam at the window pushed up her glasses admiring the chocolate sheen and the lines of her muscles as she used every part of her body to please the tall blond boss. As wide eyed as the rest of her colleagues she felt her body responding to the show pleasure plainly written on Eric's face she could only imagine how it felt to be enveloped by such overt sexuality.

"Damn."

She heard one of her coworkers and she inwardly she concurred. Damn. Long black hair fell over her shoulders and with a back arched against Eric's chest her ass moved against him. He leaned to her ear most likely to whisper how he was enjoying himself.

"What the—" the exclamation startled the collective group. Not because they had been so enthralled by the seductive scene and forgot where they were. The voice belonged to the president of the company who regularly made rounds on their floor because his son, the same lucky bastard getting the lap dance, was responsible for it.

Blue eyes trailed Eric's father, Bernard Northman, who rounded the corner for the same reason they had, curiosity. The round man pushed through to office door not bothering to knock he sent a scolding look to the gathered crowd before closing the blinds to speak freely with his son.

"He's goin to get it now," she heard as they scattered to their desks waiting the aftermath of Eric's latest indulgence.

"Not trust fund baby, no, a slap on the wrist and maybe a seminar on sexual harassment."

Pam returned to her desk listening to her coworkers speculate about his fate. It was scandalous and would reach the other floors in no time as all juicy gossip had a way of doing. Sometimes she felt like she never left high school and as the clichés formed she had made it a point to be the loner. She didn't like the drama that came with work mostly because she couldn't stand people on principle. They lied, they stole, they were manipulative and often the people who deserved the second chance Bernard would undoubtedly give his son were canned without a second thought.

She vaguely remembered promising herself she wouldn't look at the clock anymore. It was torture for her like it always was and since she finished her work and wasn't keen on starting another she decided and impromptu bathroom break was in order. No one would notice. Very few of her coworkers knew she existed and the minority that did didn't care for her. She was too quiet she'd overheard someone say and then someone else followed up with, "it's the quiet ones that you need to worry about." Like she said like high school all over again.

When she got to the bathroom she stopped inches from entering the stall realizing she hadn't come in there to pee. She turned to the mirror instead pulling from her purse makeup to touch it up if only to have something to do. Pursing her lips after she put on a fresh coat of lipstick she heard the door swing open instinctively tensing at the idea of company.

A bag was thrown unceremoniously on the sink beside her and she shamelessly jumped because she hadn't expected it or the playful brown eyes finding humor in her reaction. It was the stripper.

"Sorry," she apologized half heartedly.

Pam doubted on an exponential level the smirk on her lips was sincerely apologetic. In response she nodded slightly acknowledging the comment, because it would be rude not to, then she stepped to her left giving the woman more room than she needed. Returning her attention on her makeup she leaned forward inspecting her work feeling the curious eyes of the audience trailing over her with interest.

"Can I help you?" she asked finally when the staring finally hit a nerve.

"Just admiring the view," she stated.

Blue eyes blinked at her via the mirror and the dancer seemingly accomplishing a goal Pam was clueless about began to do what she assumed she had come here to do all along. She disrobed throwing the trench coat over the sink and with a move the blond hadn't expected began taking the rest of her clothes.

"Wha….what the hell are you doing?"

Those legs, those thighs, those abs, Pam didn't know whether to be jealous or impressed. Without her conscious permission she was both hiding behind her surprise and indignation that gave most people the impression she was a snob.

"Changing," the woman answered simply undoing her bra.

Wide eyed and forgetting her train of thought Pam also forgot to look elsewhere and command her brain to at least stop imaging that topless tone body over her.

Brown eyes never left blue as she continued putting on her clothes entertained the by the obvious expression of pleasure and the effort it took to reign it in when the blond realized she was staring.

"You could have used a stall," Pam reprimanded.

"Then I wouldn't have gotten a look at that adorable expression. I've seen a lot of men and women look at me with all types of expressions, but I must say yours in the most flattering I've seen in a long time." She began buttoning the black blouse.

"I…."

"Did you see me dance?" the dancer interrupted.

The blond replaced the top of her lipstick ducking her head in embarrassment as she pretended to be concerned about its exact position in her purse. The dancer took this as a yes putting one leg after the other in her jeans. Then pulling out a pair of heels she bounced on the counter which was thankfully dry to put them on. Her thighs brushed up against Pam's arm and the woman jumped from the contact moving away from it.

"I don't bite," she heard the woman say and she felt like there was more to the sentence. And peering at her through her black rimmed glasses she gave the woman ample opportunity to reply. She didn't.

Nodding her head for no other reason than to have something to do she left the bathroom abruptly hoping that horny couldn't be read all over her face. A stripper she shook her head, not exactly someone she could take home to her parents. She dropped in her seat holding her face in her hands occupying herself with emails she didn't to read because mostly likely at least one of them included a task that would have her spending more than that few hours she had left at her desk to complete. Though, she welcomed the distraction. Work kept her sane when her body was prone to do things like react to certain scantily clad women with sex emanating off of her like a perfume.

Lust. The emotion was identified and Pam blamed the three month dry spell due to her breakup. No one woman seemed smart enough, sexy enough, and she'd tried her hand at a few dates determined not to wallow in pity. Her effort introduced her to several characters supplying her with material whenever she compared worst dates with her best friend Sophie. Their competitive streaks were playful, but sometimes Pam thought the strawberry blond exaggerated how horrendous her dates were just to win. She was beautiful and sexy and smart with quirks Pam couldn't stand in a girlfriend like her penchant for being faithless—if not for that large shortcoming she'd take the leap and date Sophie.

"Goodnight," she heard one of her coworkers say.

Looking up from her screen and at her project which she was a few mouse clicks from completing she cursed the stripper and all women for that matter. She would have left the work for tomorrow to finish early in the morning. Instead to calm down she decided to work and for reasons that Sophie like to title as OCD Pam couldn't leave a project unfinished for the next day. It had to be done no matter the hours it took to finish. This particular endeavor meant that she was the last to leave having heard the vacuum of the janitorial staff echoing down the hall in Eric's office.

Like a chain reaction thoughts of Eric's office then to the stripper in Eric's office to the meeting in the bathroom where the unabashed woman undressed and dressed in front of her. Turning off her computer she pressed the power button for the monitor reached under her desk beside her feet for her purse. When her fingers didn't connect with the strap like it usually did she ducked down thinking she might have kicked it further under the desk like she was prone to do on occasion.

It wasn't there.

"Shit," she breathed retracing her steps until it lead her to the bathroom. Hurrying she thought about all the valuables inside like her credit cards and her i.d.—she rarely carried cash. A part of her knew it wouldn't be in there, but she went anyway and to her disappointment it wasn't entirely unexpected when the sink was empty as well as the stalls.

What could have happened to it? She would have hoped her coworkers were honest enough to turn it in. But, when she left it in here—the stripper—that damn stripper was sitting on the sink beside her purse. How could have forgotten about it? Easy, she was too concerned about running away from her body's reactions to remember she had a purse.

Her car keys, everything was in the purse. Thinking of how she was going to get home and thinking of all the calls she'd have to make to cancel all of her credit cards gave her a headache. A perfect ending to a Monday she hadn't wanted to wake up at all for.

"You're still here?" she heard a masculine voice as her and she immediately knew who it was stopping at her desk.

"I was on my way out," she said on reflex.

Eric was a lot of things, but he'd shown her nothing but kindness since she'd arrived. He was a handsome tall blond with a mischievous look about him that she could understand women being attracted to. Though, he wasn't Pam's type—maybe if she was straight.

"That woman today," she began slowly treading lightly on the subject while trying to figure out how to say that dancer might have taken her purse.

"Tara," his smiled widened. "Amazing wasn't she?" she chuckled to himself, "dad was not amused."

"Is she a close friend of yours?"

Eric narrowed his eyes at Pam as if something had been confirmed by that statement, "we've known each other for a while, she's performing tonight, I was going to stop by and thank her."

"You were?"

"Would you like to join me? We could have a drink I'm paying."

It was six already and she knew Eric. One drink would turn into two and she would be no good for tomorrow morning. The man was every bit his reputation and he didn't mind giving the whole world a show for everyone to see just how deserving he was of the rumors.

"Sure," she agreed because she needed to get her purse after all.


End file.
